Melik

March 25, 2014 The first time I saw my son was on a Tuesday afternoon. I am not certain of that, however, Tuesday seems to embody: normal, average, day. My oldest daughter and I had returned the day before from seeing my brother in Brussells, Belgium. We were so jet lagged. My husband and I had a week left until our Foster care license would expire. Honestly, we were waiting for it to run out. Our four daughters were keeping us plenty busy. We had discussed adopting again, but honestly, Greg was already working two jobs and our house was bursting at the seams. Abby and I awoke from our slumber and decided to make a Starbucks run. As I was driving down our main street in town, my phone rang. You guessed it. Our case worker, and friend, was calling to see if we would be open to a two week long placement. “It’s a boy!” she said. “And he’s African American,” which we had requested on our profile. Parenting black children, one who was markedly darker than the other, had convinced us that we should be specific on this application. “He’s been with a family member for two weeks and he’s four months old. Our plan is to clear another family member for placement.” Wow. So we would be this little guy’s 3rd home in his short little life. “Ok. Well, let me call Greg.” Before I go into the phone call, let me give you some insight into the way we think and live. It has been the norm in our almost 20 years together, that we have not had to have long, drawn-out, discussions over major events in in our marriage. The big decisions seem to come to us already made. We can have a “ruin your date night” discussion over where to eat, bringing stray dogs into the house until the pound can pick them up, or my anxiety over his driving. As to buying houses, cars, adopting children; not so much. I do see the irony, or lunacy, in this as I type it. However, it is what it is. So I call Greg and say, “Here’s the deal, blah, blah, blah, what do you think?” He says, “Well, he’s 4 months old so he’ll sleep a lot, which will allow homeschooling to not be interrupted. I think that sounds good. And, it’s only for two weeks! What do you think?” I said, “Yeah, I think we should be alright.” Now, for those of you who over-spiritualize how this works, there is little time for prayer in these moments. The praying has to be something that is being done before and consistently. Like breathing in and out. Emma, our case worker, needed to find a home for him quickly. He was being moved out of his first placement because it was proving to be a threatening environment. So my final words to Greg were, “Ok, I am calling her now so don’t call me in thirty minutes and say you’ve changed your mind.” He assured me that that would not happen. And that was that. My two older daughters and I drove down town and rode the elevator to the 4th floor. We told the receptionist that we would like to see Case Worker X. She came out and we told her that we were going to be the foster family and we wondered if we could see him. She told me that she would be bringing him to our house in a couple of hours but she would let us see him. She disappeared behind a glass and came back holding this little bitty baby. Melik weighed 9 pounds at 4 months old. My oldest daughter was 9.5 at birth. By 4 months, she was like a toddler. He had new born eyes and a soft, silky, head full of hair. He was still curled-up, as if someone had just unwrapped him in-utero. He was someone else’s son, and although I was taking everything in, I was just the babysitter. Short-term at that. He will never know me or have any memory of me. I will be a link in the chain of healthy-attachment. He came to our home shortly after that. Some of his clothes were in a duffel bag and others were in the Luv’s diaper box. He had a bear that his aunt had sent with him that said The Lord’s Prayer. He was precious. We signed all of the paper work stating that we would do everything that we had been trained to do, and the case worker left. Several days passed and real life set in. I began to wear Melik. I would tie him on the front of my body in the morning, and unless I was driving or in the shower, that is where he stayed. After all of his records had been transferred to our pediatrician, which was his 3rd, I discovered that he had been born 2 months early. His first home was the NICU where he lived for his first 8 weeks. After going home, for a month and a half, he was removed and placed with his aunt for the next two weeks. And now he would be with us until his new home could prepare. You know, all removals are not the same. His mom truly loved him, and loves him, to the best of her ability. However, she mentally could not shoulder the responsibility of a child. She should have never been in this situation. She was not protected properly. Yet through this turn of events is born a beautiful little boy. Her son. I cannot forget to tell you about the Skype call we had with my mom who was still in Brussells. She would not be returning to the States for another week. She and my brother’s family answered our call thinking that we would be checking in to report about our flight home. When we told them that we had a surprise for them, something we wanted to show them, they were expecting a ferret. You know, I hate rodents or anything resembling rodents. One of my children became fixated on the idea of getting a ferret while I was overseas. Every call was about this ferret and the leash that she was told that she could walk him with. She had this entire life planned around this loving, and playful, rodent. That being said, when Melik’s little face came on the screen they began to laugh and coo at the same time. Around the third week we begin to hear that the family was not panning out as anticipated. Contrary to popular belief, there are lots of details that go into placement. Although not a perfect system, our experience with CPS has been positive. CASA was heavily involved in home visits, as well as CPS. It was a consensus that he not be moved. Weekly visits were now happening. I would take him, drop him off for an hour, and the case worker would bring him home. This was proving to be more difficult for me, emotionally, because I had bonded with this child. It is so taxing to keep these boundaries in place. Why should anyone have the right to tell me when he can get a haircut? I’m raising him. Why would anyone care what kind of clothes he wears to a visit? They are clean and new. Who has the audacity to question what he’s eating? I’m not just giving him the right kind of formula, but he’s finally gaining weight. All of these uncensored thoughts flooded my mind daily. Me. The foster parent. After months of trying unsuccessfully to keep him with his biological family, word came that we would have the opportunity to adopt him. This was a fantastic day in my life. I honestly felt as if the Lord was blessing me with too great a gift. One main event that I will never forget, as long as I live, was the day that Greg and I sat down with Melik’s birthmother and talked. We were in a small room with case workers, CASA workers, me and Greg, and his birthmom. She was a noticeably nervous. She had the mental capacity of an 11 year old, maybe. With assistance, she had written a list of questions for us. She wanted to know if we were to adopt him if we would let him wear t-shirts that had cartoon characters on them. She was curious about our daughters. She liked the fact that Greg was a Pastor because she wanted Melik to be “raised up Christian.” She also wanted Melik to remain his name. Her Grandmother liked that name and wanted that name to be used. I promised her that his name would remain. We took pictures together and hugged. When she left the room it was completely silent. Several reading this blog were there and can attest to this. I bowed my head and allowed the locked up emotions to come out. The gravity of what was taking place in that moment was so overwhelming. Shortly after that meeting, I got a phone call that she was there wanting to relinquish her rights as his legal parent. The day that she stood before the Judge to say that this was her decision, was another monumental day. We had a long break so she and I decided to go have lunch. We went to Sonic and grabbed some burgers. On the way back to the courthouse, Bill Wither’s came on the radio singing, “Ain’t no Sunshine.” She sang at the top of her lungs. Innocent as a child, she sang freely and passionately. And I became engulfed in emotion as she sang. She rocked slowly, forward and backward, singing, and feeling whatever it was that she was feeling. I was wondering what she might be thinking about and how things might have been different for her. I was wondering what I was feeling. I knew then that she would always be a significant part of our son’s life and our life, too. And I felt again the sting of adoption. What was redemptive in my eyes, from my perspective, was a jail sentence to her. She, in spite of her limitations, loved him. And he would call me Mommy. This has proven to be a difficult scenario as he still sees her. However, it is one that we are willing to push through because it is important and we have given her our word. We finalized our adoption shortly after, on my 40th birthday. So today, Gregory Amos Melik Fields, on your 3rd birthday, here is MY prayer for You: I pray that you will know that you have always been loved. From birth until now, you are fiercely loved and treasured by two sets of parents. I pray that you will always honor your Mother. Both of them. I pray that you will grow to be a strong man of God who breaks the patterns of previous generations. I pray that you will live with the same passionate, freedom that your birth mom sang with. And I pray, that like your Daddy, you will not sweat the big stuff…because we would have missed out on so much joy if he had!